


Up & Down, Sideways (& diagonally)

by VerdantVulpus



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Biting, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Good Omens Bingo 2021, M/M, Soft Dom Aziraphale, Tags to be added regularly, Trolling, Undressing, fangs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantVulpus/pseuds/VerdantVulpus
Summary: These are the potentially cursed fics based on the prompts for Good Omens Bingo 2021.Proceed with caution.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 106
Collections: Good Omens Bingo 2021





	1. Teeth/Biting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley feels self-conscious of the way his fangs become more pronounced when he's excited. Aziraphale admits to just how much he would like to enjoy those fangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per the rules, I can combine up to two prompts in a single fic. I got both Teeth and Biting and they really do belong together.
> 
> CW for biting, obviously (obviously), so feel free to skip this chapter if fang ain't yer thang.

Crowley didn’t like his eyes. That had become a fairly well known fact, given the effort he put into hiding them, but it was a mistake to think it was because he thought they were ugly. They were perfectly acceptable eyes on a snake, and Crowley was more than happy with being a snake. He enjoyed the predatory creep of his slither, and the way the world tasted on his forked tongue. He enjoyed basking on warm rocks and sliding through cool grass. It wasn’t the fact that his eyes were yellow or slitted that he disliked. It was that he couldn’t control it.

He chose so much of how he presented in his corporation. He chose the length of his hair, whether to have breasts or not, what sort of effort to wear between his legs. He chose his clothing and his accent and his sharp words. But he hadn't a choice regarding his snake eyes and that was just annoying, especially since the humans disliked them so much. 

But once the humans created tinted spectacles Crowley found a chance to assert some control. He invested his trendsetting skills to ensure they caught on. Now he could at least choose the style of sunglasses he used to hide his eyes. This control snatched out of the grip of the uncontrollable had become a source of armour for Crowley. They made him feel safe. If he couldn’t completely control the serpent, then at least he could be in control of how he dealt with it.

He was perfectly in control then, until his relationship with Aziraphale changed and a new problem appeared. 

The last two months since they were fired had been a blur. Suddenly they were free to do what they wanted and it turned out what they really wanted to do was each other. So they did. Vigorously. 

And they were open about being in love or whatever but that wasn't the point. The point was that Crowley had spent thousands of years in a periodic state of impetent arousal and now he was in a near constant state of very active arousal and it was driving him a bit...snakey. He could hide his eyes behind tinted glass but what the Heaven was he meant to do about long fangs? Keep his mouth shut? Be serious!

Tonight Crowley was melting into the sofa in the back of the bookshop, a couple bottles deep into his cups. Aziraphale was fetchingly flushed, as he always was when sloshed. He was pink and rumpled and glassy-eyed. He'd shed the bowtie and was currently rolling up his shirtsleeves, pointedly _not_ looking at Crowley.

Crowley had made a mistake telling him what the angel's forearms did to him. Aziraphale seemed content to weaponize them. _All right then_ , Crowley shrugged, unslouching and turning towards the angel. He openly stared, smirking as he leaned his elbows over his denim-clad knees. Aziraphale smiled smugly, and Crowley smoothly opened his legs wider, drawing Aziraphale's blue gaze to the bulge in his trousers.

Aziraphale swallowed, turning red, and quickly averted his gaze. The seduction game wasn't going to last much longer. Crowley flicked his tongue along his lip as he raised his glass to his mouth and that's when the night went to hell.

The rim clacked loudly against his elongated fangs, spilling his wine down his chin and throat. The sound was ridiculously loud in his ears and what's worse was Aziraphale saw the whole thing.

"Distracted dear?" he teased.

"Meh, jussst these sodding teeth," Crowley grumbled, summoning a cloth and dabbing at his wet shirt.

"Oh, yes. I see you've gone a bit fangy, haven't you, dear?" 

"Shaddup,"

"Do be careful with the stemware, please, you viper. No wonder I keep finding chipped glasses," Aziraphale laughed. Crowley glared at him, feeling a growl rumble in his chest. 

"Oh fuck off," Crowley snarled, defensively. He knew the whites of his eyes were bleeding yellow as his cheeks burned and he snatched up his glasses again, sliding behind his armour once more. 

There was nothing to do about those teeth though. They wanted to snap in warning. They wanted to bite bite bite. He didn't hate being a serpent, but he hated how his bestial traits just kept getting more pronounced when he was aroused. 

Now that he and the angel have entered a new phase in their relationship, one that Crowley finds _intensely arousing_ , this sort of thing has become more and more of a problem. 

He'd tried to hide it from Aziraphale, keeping the lights off, his glasses on, burying his head in the angel's neck, or thighs or arse. Hiding his lack of control for as long as he could.

And now it's forearms and wine glasses that gave him away?

He tongued at his teeth, trying to will the fangs away but it was no good. He was upset now, and that stress did much the same thing to him as excitement. He growled at himself in frustration.

"Oh, don't start snarling, you silly beast," Aziraphale giggled, clearly unaware of how he was fanning the flames. "It's really not worth getting worked up over."

"No?" Crowley sulked.

"Honestly, I think those pointy chompers are absolutely adorable."

"No!" Crowley growled in denial. He hadn't just heard that. He was the Serpent of Eden! He was a demon! He could be fearsome, handsome, _dead sexy_ , but he would not, _could not_ , tolerate the angel finding him _adorable_!

"I'm off," he spat, launching himself to his feet. 

"Crowley, don't be ridiculous," Aziraphale chided. "I was just teasing you. Don't be upset."

"M'not," he lied, stomping to the door. "Just knackered and this wine is plonk."

"This wine is _exquisite_ and you know it," Aziraphale retorted dryly. "Come back in and sit down, dear. We'll talk about something else."

But Crowley could feel the tips of his too-sharp teeth barely sinking into the meat of his now-forked tongue and knew he couldn't stay. Aziraphale had seen his ugliness, his _otherness_. Aziraphale had seen the way he brought it out of Crowley, and Crowley's helplessness to keep it at bay. 

He laughed. He said it was _cute_. It was humiliating and Crowley wouldn't abide looking so weak. Not even in front of the love of his fucking eternal life.

He had to leave, stay away until he could get the snake of him under control.

*-*-*-*-*

He couldn't avoid Aziraphale for long though. They only had each other and it turned out that Crowley just missed the arsehole _all the time_ now.

His resolution to stay away from the bookshop lasted all of twelve hours and he was walking through the door again, armed with a box of fresh croissants, the very next afternoon. He was surprised to see the sign read the shop was closed, but _not_ surprised the shop let him in regardless. They had an understanding.

"Not open today?" he asked conversationally as he placed the pastry box on the counter. He could hear Aziraphale on the other side of the book shop. "Everything all right?"

"Perfectly," Aziraphale replied brightly, his words oddly muffled. Crowley ticked a brow in confusion and strode into the backroom. Aziraphale gave him a closed mouthed grin, his eyes glittering with mirth. He was very clearly hiding something in his mouth. 

Crowley was equal parts suspicious and curious. Was this a childish prank, or some new interesting sex thing? In his defense there had been a number of new interesting sex things and some of them were unexpected and weird, especially because Aziraphale didn't always translate sex acts correctly…

"Wotcha got there, angel?" Crowley deadpanned, still uncertain if he should be curious or annoyed. 

"Nuffin'" Aziraphale shrugged innocently, his nostrils flaring as he held back his giggles.

"Nothing eh?" Crowley smirked, deciding Aziraphale was too sweet to be annoyed at. "How about giving me a kiss then?"

He expected Aziraphale to balk at that since he was _clearly_ hiding something, so he wasn't ready when the angel surged into his arms, nearly toppling him. The kiss was forceful and hot and Crowley shuddering with pleasure, feeling a sharp pulse of heat in his cock, and the pull of his lengthening teeth. So he was disappointed as well as confused when the kiss deepened and his tongue slid into Aziraphale's mouth and flicked against something hard and plastic.

"Wot the— " he gasped, pulling away in revulsion at the unexpected sensation. Aziraphale grinned, revealing the points of two white fangs. Crowley held back his cry of incredulous rage but it was a near thing.

"Aziraphale," his growl was barely more than a whisper. "Wot the unholy fuck is in your mouth?"

"Fangths!" Aziraphale lisped. "Cothtume from Halloween."

Crowley absently wondered how his face could feel so hot when his spine felt so cold. 

"Hilariousss," he seethed, wishing his angry hissing could vanish any better than his fangs. He knew they were flashing brightly in the sunlight through the window, and yet he couldn't pull his lips out of their snarl. "Crowley can't control hisss monssstrous teeth. Wot a fucking lark!"

"I'm thorry, dear," Aziraphale began before taking the cheap plastic teeth out and pocketing them. "Honestly, darling. It was meant to be a laugh. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"M'not!" Crowley hissed. "Ssssod off. Jussst thought _you_ were better 'n that, is all. Didn't expect you to ridicule me for my snake bitsss."

"Crowley," Aziraphale laughed gently. "I wasn't teasing you for having fangs, dear."

Crowley snorted. There was a wet chunk of plastic in the angel's pocket that disagreed.

"I _was_ , perhaps, poking fun at your dramatic reaction to them last night," Aziraphale admitted. "I thought you were being a poor sport because you were losing our little game."

"Wossn't losing anything!" Crowley sulked. "Would've turned it around if it weren't for my fuckin' fangs."

"Darling, I adore your fangs," Aziraphale insisted. 

Crowley rolled his eyes, cheeks still burning with humiliation. "Right. You find them 'adorable'. That's great, Angel."

"Hmm, truthfully I like them quite a bit more than I let on," Aziraphale admitted, taking Crowley by the wrist and leading him to the chesterfield. Crowley was gently made to sit so Aziraphale could stand before him. The angel gently brushed his fingers along Crowley's cheek and he leaned into the caress despite his annoyance.

"Your fangs are gorgeous, dear," Aziraphale murmured.

"Horseshit," Crowley snapped. "They’re long and sharp."

"They are," Aziraphale agreed. "And the rest of you is soft."

Crowley gave an incredulous snort. This was all going from bad to worse. He was certainly not _soft_. Aziraphale was soft. Crowley was all planes and angles and edges.

"The way you touch me is soft," Aziraphale explained. "Your skin is soft. Your hair is soft." The angel trailed his fingers lightly over Crowley's face before carding them through his hair. Everywhere he touched seemed to grow warm under his fingers and Crowley shivered in silent pleasure.

"Your kisses are soft. Your mouth is too," Aziraphale continued, his voice seductively low as his thumb traced up Crowley's chin, gently pulling his mouth open. Crowley looked up at Aziraphale in awe. His blue eyes were dark with desire and Crowley was captivated, the previous slights forgotten.

"Your lips are soft. Your tongue is soft," Aziraphale whispered, drawing Crowley's bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb. Crowley whined, his cock twitching. He widened his legs to ease some of the pressure on his erection. He wanted to rub himself, he wanted to pull his cock free of its denim prison, but he couldn't risk interrupting Aziraphale's speech. It was… incredibly compelling.

"But your teeth are sharp," the angel continued with a gasp, his cheeks flushing pink as he stared down at Crowley's fangs. "If you were ever to bite me those teeth would pierced my skin easily. You make love to me so sweetly, your body pulls me in with every thrust, and at any time you could bite, bury these sharp teeth in me as deeply as I bury myself in you."

"Fuck, Angel," Crowley groaned. He was so turned on he could barely stand it. Aziraphale was badly aroused himself, pupils blown and breath blowing hot and ragged between his parted lips. They both wanted it so badly, and yet they were both trapped in Aziraphale's spell.

"Why don't you, Crowley?" Aziraphale whimpered. "Do you not want to? I'd understand, but, oh my dear, if you do…"

"You want me to?" Crowley managed to rasp the words through his dry throat. 

"Desperately," Aziraphale whispered. It was as though the word set them both free of the enchantment. Crowley surged to his feet, crushing Aziraphale to him in a bruising kiss. Aziraphale clung to him, letting Crowley crowd him back against the nearest bookshelf.

"Anything for you, Angel," Crowley groaned, kissing along his jaw and gently nibbling a delicate earlobe. "Maybe lose the bow tie, yeah?" he suggested, flicking his tongue inside the ear and smiling at the angel's moan.

Aziraphale immediately started working on his tie, closing his eyes as Crowley tilted his head to better access the skin behind his ear. Crowley licked and sucked kisses against every bit of exposed skin, gently nuzzling against cottony curls, inwardly pleading for the angel to hurry up already. 

He heard the whispering of fabric as the tie was drawn out through the starched collar and Crowley immediately attacked the buttons at the angel's throat, working to open the button down shirt as Aziraphale unfastened his velvet waistcoat. Crowley flowed forward the moment one of Aziraphale's clavicles was exposed, licking a wet trail across the rise of bone. He took a moment to savour the way Aziraphale grasped the shelf behind him in anticipation, breathing hot breath across the wet skin and making the angel whine.

He nipped the skin, teasing with his teeth as Aziraphale dropped his head back with a gasp or tortured pleasure. He was writhing slowly under Crowley's body, completely at his mercy. Crowley promptly let the power go to his head.

With barely more than a hiss of warning Crowley bit, his fangs slicing pale skin with a faint pop heard by no-one but him. Aziraphale jumped and bucked in his arms, a cry ripped from his throat. Crowley withdrew at once.

"All right?" he asked, worried the angel found the practice less arousing than the theory.

"Again," Aziraphale demanded, panting. He quickly shucked his shirt and pulled his vest over his head. Aziraphale was naked from the waist up in seconds. "Again, darling please."

"Where?" Crowley asked, already landmarking a spot on Aziraphale's shoulder with his lips. 

"Everywhere," Aziraphale moaned, rocking his hips hard against Crowley's. Once again teeth sank through pale flesh and once again Aziraphale gasped and keened delightedly. 

"Oh ffffuck," Crowley groaned, his cock throbbing against the tight constraint of his jeans. "Bedroom, Angel. Now."

There was a familiar snap and then a sudden drop as Aziraphale summoned them to his flat upstairs, a foot above the bed. They bounced on the mattress slightly, Crowley grinning at Aziraphale’s delightful giggling. Crowley silenced the giggling with another bite.

This, at least, had always been easy. From the first moment they undressed each other with _intent_ , every touch, kiss, twist, and glide had come almost naturally. Best of all, nearly all of his overactive thoughts fell away with their clothing, and Crowley could finally — _finally!—_ cede control.

He buried the last of his fears in the warm crease of his lover's thigh, barely hearing his own moan over Aziraphale's ecstatic shout.

He dragged his sharp self over naked softness, bringing his fangs to bare for his angel.

And when he was through, Aziraphale was wrecked beneath him, quivering in purpling crescents, a love-drunk grin on his beautiful face. Crowley tucked himself at his side, drinking in the heat of him, satisfied and smug.

It wasn't control. His fangs would still come out when he didn't want them to, just as his eyes would always be yellow and wild. Still, it was _something,_ to make use of his teeth, to feel the pull of his fangs and bare them proudly at Aziraphale to make him blush. Maybe someday he'd learn to control it. Or maybe someday he'd no longer want to.

Wouldn't that be something?

  
  
  
  



	2. Coffee Shop AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has made a habit of teasing the handsome small appliance repairman who worked across from his café. It was damn near his favourite thing. But when his espresso machine dies and needs emergency repairs, Crowley finds himself needing Aziraphale's help. It wasnt like he was too disappointed for an excuse to get the blonde alone.
> 
> Or...
> 
> Flirty Redhead is desperate to get railed by the the cute repair man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as a separate fic so I could enter it into a separate collection as well. The link is below.

Click Here to read [Coarse Grind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29452188)


	3. Storytelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two drunk idiots have a 'hypothetical' debate and who would have been better served to have seduced whom. Idiocy escalates. Feelings are hurt. And then the story gets _really_ interesting. Someone is going to lose their trousers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my Free Space.

There few places where Crowley would say he was truly comfortable but the backroom of Aziraphale's bookshop with Armageddon two years behind him and the wine two bottles in, was the top of that very short list.

And it meant the world to him that Aziraphale was comfortable enough with _him_ to get completely blotto in his presence. 

Still. 

Again.

It was basically their _thing_.

Having loud, effusive debates whilst blotto was also their thing, and tonight was no exception. Aziraphale had waxed on about some rubbish romance novel or poem or _something_ (Crowley had stopped paying attention for a moment, destracted by the angel's pink tongue licking the ruby wine from the corner of his mouth) was the height of seduction for whatever time said novel or poem or whatever was published. 

Crowley's attention snapped into focus when the fluffy blonde suggested it would have worked on _him_. Crowley tried almost desperately to remember what he'd been talking about.

“It would’ve been a real feath’r in _your_ cap to have seduced an angel,” Aziraphale slurred.

There it was. Crowley felt his happy smile slide off his face as he watched the angel top off their glasses. He nodded his thanks and sipped pensively. He shouldn’t say anything. He’d never have said anything before so he shouldn’t say anything _now_.

Sod it.

“You know, that’s the third time you’ve ssssuggested that I… that… _THAT_ ,” Crowley erred on the side of over-enunciating the final word, realizing he might be a smidge too drunk for this conversation but finding himself starting it anyway. “Me… ssseducing you…”

“It isn’t,” Aziraphale argued with a loud snort.

“T’is,” Crowley countered. “Specific-ibally...sasif... _specifically_ , how it would be to my _infernal_ benefit to do so.”

Aziraphale hiccuped confusedly. “No. I’m fairly sure I only just suggested it now, in fact.”

“No no. You _did_ ,” Crowley continued. “ _And_ you did in Paris after the crepes, and _again_ in Germany a few decades later. Maybe before that too. That’s jussst when I started to notice.”

“Rubbish,” Aziraphale scoffed. ”Daft thing to notice anyway. _I_ clearly didn’t.”

“ _Clearly,_ ” Crowley echoed, and returned to his wine, unable to argue it further. It wasn’t like he had any evidence to support his claim and he wasn’t quite drunk enough for an all night _you did/ I didn’t_ row. Aziraphale, however, seemed unwilling to let it go.

“Anyway, it still _would_ have been,” he huffed as though that settled the matter. Crowley screwed his face up in excruciating thought, terribly ashamed to have actually followed the sozzled angel’s thinking.

“A feather in my cap?” he asked, giving Aziraphale his most unamused stare. Aziraphale, drunk off his arse, was immune to it.

“Seducing an a...angel,” he nodded, hiding a burp behind his hand. 

Crowley thought about this for a bit. Aziraphale wasn’t _wrong_ , although he was missing the point by a fair margin. Crowley didn’t understand why the angel was concerned that he would do something to make him Fall. Because that _was_ what he must have meant with his talk of feathers and caps. Crowley wouldn’t get any recognition if he’d bedded Aziraphale in any of the myriad of ways he’d fantasized about because Hell would never have found out.

No. Seducing Aziraphale had always been out of the question.

“S’a bit cliche, innit?” he suggested finally.

“I don’t think so,” Aziraphale looked almost insulted.

  
“Evil demon temptsss the innocent angel into a de...depraved act of sin?” Crowley scoffed, sloshing some wine over his hand. “Too obvious... No. _I_ think the _real_ cap-feathering would come from _you_ seducing _me_.”

Aziraphale spluttered into his wine glass and Crowley arched a brow, finding his friend’s incredulity a bit much. He smirked his smarmiest smirk as he continued to argue his point. 

“The angel is a being of love right? The demon wouldn’t expect anyone to be able to _actually_ care about him, let alone _love_ him. Would have to... to deny it, shove such fluffy feelingssss away from him." Crowley felt his cheeks warm at the thought and set his glass down, unconsciously reaching for the solace of his dark glasses. Armour affixed, he soldiered on.

"But what if the angel _makes_ him see it?" Crowley leered. "What if, after some interminable amount of time, the angel just _got_ _on_ _with_ _it_ and kissed the demon? Made him doubt how evil he really was? What if the angel held the demon down, firm but soft, and filled him to the brim with his love until that’s all he could see or think about?”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley, his mouth agape and his cheeks brightly flushed. Clearly this was far outside the angel’s expectations and Crowley should probably dial it back it touch, but bless him if he wasn’t on a bloody roll.

“I’m jus' saying that sort of thing would look _good_ on an angel. Tempering a demon with compassion or some such rot. Yanking him a bit farther from Hell’s clutches. Win-win, that."

Aziraphale seemed to give himself a little shake, then took a large sip of wine. There was a huff of laughter through his nose, and Crowley bit the inside of his cheek, blessing himself for getting into this conversation in the first place.

“That’s… a lovely _story_ , dear,” Aziraphale smiled amiably, "but I think it is much better the other way. Demon’s are just better at seduction than angels.”

_News_ _to_ _me_ , Crowley thought bitterly, draining his glass.

“If that’s true, s’only because angels are so bloody obtuse they wouldn’t _notice_ a seduction if one happened,” he griped. Aziraphale blinked owlishly at him, hurt.

“Oh, come on now,” he chided. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Crowley. It was a compliment!”

“A compliment?” Crowley fumed. “The suggestion that I’d seduce you just to improve my standing among demons?”

“Well, not anymore, obviously,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I was speaking hypothetically.”

“Right,” Crowley snapped. “Where I _hypothetically_ use my demonic wiles to tempt you, to _coerce_ you into sssullying your divinity with my touch?”

Aziraphale tisked in frustration. “I dont believe I said anything about coercion or sullying.”

“No. _You_ said it was a _‘better_ _story’_ for the demon to seduce the angel because a demon hurting an angel was more _logical_ than an angel caring about a demon,” Crowley blared. 

It was past time he was going. This was dangerous territory. He was saying too much. Aziraphale was looking at him strangely. It was _time_ _to_ _go_.

“I _do_ care about you, Crowley,” Aziraphale told him earnestly, and the gentleness in his hazel eyes nearly broke what was left of Crowley’s heart.

“And _I’d_ sooner drink holy water than do something like _that_ against your will,” he coughed, not liking the way his throat was becoming thick with emotion.

Aziraphale gasped and Crowley shuddered and swallowed and bolted for the exit but the blighter caught him by the wrist before he made it all the way to his feet.

“My goodness, Crowley. _Of_ _course_ you’d never do something like that,” the angel agreed, his voice soft with concern. “Heavens. What are you even talking about? ‘ _Against my will’_?”

“Wot d’you mean, ‘wot m’I talking ‘bout’?” Crowley seethed. “A demon seducing an angel for his own self...selfish interest? He’d _have_ to resort to some—”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Aziraphale snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was being _romantic_! I’ve no idea how you twisted this into an insult. I think you should sober up.”

“I think I should _leave_ ,” Crowley retorted coldly, struggling to stand under the weight of his drunkenness and wounded pride. “And if you think that being tricked into bed is ‘seduction’ than I hope yer _never_ seduced!”

“Crowley stop!” Aziraphale shouted, rounding on the demon. Crowley shut his mouth with a click. “Sober up!” Aziraphale demanded. “Now.”

Crowley complied, and Aziraphale joined him as they purged the alcohol from their systems. Crowley found himself much less furious sans booze, but the humiliation still had bite. He could feel his cheeks burning.

“Clearly we are speaking at cross purposes,” Aziraphale sighed.

“Yep,” Crowley agreed tightly. “Let’s just drop it then, eh?”

“No,” Aziraphale shook his head. “Let’s begin again.” He took Crowley’s hand and proceeded in a firm voice. “It _would_ have been a feather in your cap to have seduced an angel. Was I wrong about that?”

“Pffft. ‘Course you’re not wrong,” Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Then what on Earth are you so upset about?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley yanked his hand away and dropped back onto the sofa, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You’ve said some version of this a few times before, Angel,” he grumbled. “It tells me you’ve thought about it some. That you’re worried I'd take advantage of you. And I’d never ‘ve done anything to hurt you. I thought you knew that. I know I’m a demon. I know what that means, but I’m not a monster. Not to _you_ at least. I’d never do something to make you Fall.”

“I _do_ know that, dear boy,” Aziraphale exclaimed, eyes wide and benevolent. “I'd always imagined being swept off my feet and showered in sensual pleasures. I _never_ anticipated, even for a moment, that you would wish me harm. I always felt safest with you.”

Crowley felt himself flush and looked away at the far wall to hide his embarrassment. This was too close to the conversation they were meant to mutually avoid until the end of time. He had to steer them back into safer waters before it was too late.

“Well, considering I’d scorch the innards of anyone who’d hurt you, you might have been safest with me," he shrugged.

“Very galant, my dear,” Aziraphale smiled fondly. 

Bastard.

“Shut up,” Crowley muttered a second before his brain snuffed it at the realization of what Aziraphale had just said before. “Wait… Wait, you _imagined_? You imagined us…" he gestured vaguely between the two of them, ever the wordsmith.

“As did you,” Aziraphale smiled warmly. “That story about an angel ‘filling you to the brim with love’ was a touch too detailed to have been concocted on the fly.”

“ _One_ of us had to think about our survival,” Crowley insisted, blushing furiously. “ _Your_ version would have you taking a long walk off a short cloud if we were ever found out. I’m sure I could’ve twisted my way out of the worst of my punishment if I said you got the better of me. Demons are made for sins like lust after all.” 

“I see,” Aziraphale nodded with a coy smile that suggested he wasn’t buying Crowley’s excuse. “So you assumed that I was girding myself against your evil seductions whenever we were together. But _why_ would I need some flowery excuse if I had no intention of letting myself be seduced? Or do you just fancy yourself so much that you figure I wouldn’t be able to help myself?”

“Pfft. No.... _Maybe_...” Crowley shrugged. “Nnngghh Look, I’m just tired of having to be the one to come up with the plans and excuses and the like. Seducing you would have been a lot of work. Much easier ways to destroy our friendship if I wanted that.”

“There you go again. Assuming the very worst."

“Imma demon,” Crowley sulked. “Occupational hazard."

“You were correct about one thing,” Aziraphale offered, brightening up suspiciously quickly.

“Just one?” Crowley snorted, eyeing the sly angel askance.

“An angel seducing a demon _is_ a better story…” Aziraphale murmured, retaking Crowley’s hand and re-snuffing his brain. “Reversals of expectations are often entertaining, and the dramatic sulking demon would probably never see it coming, would he?”

“Heh…” Crowley chuckled nervously “Wot’s happening now?”

Aziraphale leaned towards him on the sofa, looking up at him through his lashes. “And why would he? Always watching over his shoulder for an attack. Always expecting a slight of some kind. Everything he’s ever known has been cruel and dangerous.”

“Not _everything_ ,” Crowley whispered, swallowing thickly around a decidedly dangerous spike of arousal.

“ _Nearly_ everything,” Aziraphale amended warmly. “Whatever _isn’t_ outright harmful must still be viewed with suspension, isn’t that right?” he stroked Crowley’s cheek with warm soft fingertips and Crowley shivered in pleasure, boneless under the angel’s touch. “Poor dear thing wouldn’t know what to do with real kindness.”

“ _Sssentimentality_ , you mean,” Crowley added, wincing at the slurred hiss. “Useless to a demon.”

“Not _sentimentality_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale argued. “Love.”

“Ngk.”

“True love. What would a demon think about being surrounded and filled up with real true love?” Aziraphale asked, still tracing his fingers lightly along the demon’s jaw.

“Might… Might destroy him, come to think,” Crowley stammered, breaking out in a sweat. “Burn him up.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m quite familiar with a particular demon, and I’ve found him to be extremely resilient.”

“Hrrk!”

“Yes. I believe if this demon were _properly_ seduced, he’d quickly become overwhelmed by love, but not destroyed by it.” Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully as though this were nothing but a savagely provocative thought exercise. Crowley briefly entertained the notion that was, indeed, all this was before Aziraphale touched his knee as he budged up against him, giving him a positively sultry look.

“He’d be shaking and sobbing from all that love...” the angel narrated smoothly. “...crying out until his voice cracked and gave way and yet still drinking in _every drop offered_ , desperate for all the goodness he secretly deserved.”

“Angel…” Crowley whispered, trying to hide the hardness of his cock with the drape of his jacket. Aziraphale stopped his fidgeting and stammering both with a single press of his finger against Crowley lips. Another move like that and the demon was at risk of spontaneous combustion.

“And when the demon finally believed he was at the brink, about to ‘burn up’ from all the angel’s love, I think he’d surprise himself with his own _flexibility_. He’s always been so cunning and adaptable. No matter how _big_ the show of love, I know this demon would _take it all and beg for more_.”

“Shit, Angel…” Crowley groaned. This was too much. There was no dismissing this as anything other than an attempted seduction. Crowley searched the angel’s face for some sign of pretence. If Aziraphale was bluffing then Crowley had to call it _now_ before he came in his jeans! “Is this happening? Are you seriously about to _fuck me_ , Aziraphale?”

“ _No_ , Crowley!” Aziraphale laughed and Crowley forced himself to grin weakly, feeling sick with disappointment. Then the angel fixed him with what had to be the sexiest stare Crowley had seen in his life. “No. My dear. I’m going to _make love_ to you.”

“Oh holy Hell…” Crowley squeaked, losing the last vestiges of control over his executive functions.

“I’m going to give you a very long and extensive _seeing to_ , leave you thoroughly ravished on my bed, let you recover just enough to take you apart all over again,” Aziraphale vowed while Crowley quietly tried not to swoon into the back of the sofa.

“I’m going to bring you to such heights of pleasure you’ll forget all but the worst of your torments. And then I will wrap you up in the steel of my love, protect you from outside threats while you sleep. Let you breathe in the gentleness of my fidelity until you fully understand that you’re not alone. That you will never be alone again.” Aziraphale paused to gently kiss the back of Crowley’s fingers before devastating the demon with a teasing smile. “And _then_ do you know what I’ll do?”

Crowley shook his head emphatically. He had no idea. He barely had a handle on what was happening at this moment!

Aziraphale leaned in, his breath soft against the side of his face as he whispered in Crowley’s ear. “ _Then_ I’m going to fuck you.”

“Oh, Christ!” Crowley whined, his cock twitching painfully in his tight jeans, leaking in his pants. 

Aziraphale’s grin was downright _evil_. “Once I’ve fully earned your trust with my love and affection then I will _tie you_ to our pleasure bed and fuck you hard and deep and fast until you come screaming my name and then I’ll fuck you again.”

Crowley closed his eyes, unable to prevent himself from picturing himself laid out before his angel, hands bound by silk scarves, or leather cuffs as Aziraphale tossed his long legs over those broad shoulders of his and just went to bloody town! Lucifer’s bollocks! He wasn’t confident he’d survive this little story, and _Aziraphale was still talking!_

“I’ll fill every part of you that can be filled,” he promised as Crowley moaned and bowed his head, weak with lust. “You see, _first_ I made your body an altar for my love and devout worship, only to defile that altar in filthy and debauched ways. And still— _still_ — there will always be my endless love for you. You will never have cause to doubt that again. I will mark it into your skin with my _teeth_.”

“Angel,” Crowley squawked, holding up a hand in a request for a pause… or maybe mercy. “You…” Shit! He was agonisingly turned on and he couldn’t even risk miracling away his effort because Aziraphale would _know_ , not that Crowley was able to do much at this point to hide his arousal. And despite it all, Crowley couldn’t help but think ‘ _Best hypothetical conversation ever!’_

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked sweetly, the very sodding picture of false innocence.

“You…” Crowley panted and swallowed hard, grasping for something to say other than _‘Top me!’_ “You… _swore._ ”

“Please,” Aziraphale scoffed, leaning back and finally giving Crowley space to breath in a vain attempt to collect himself. “Just because I haven’t made a habit doesn’t mean I’m incapable of profanity. It’s just words, dear. Sounds from my mouth.”

Crowley whimpered at the mention of Aziraphale’s mouth. The angel’s smile wasn’t remotely innocent now as he seemed to follow Crowley’s line of thought. “I can do all sorts of things with my mouth.”

“Nygh!”

“Now that’s sorted,” Azirphale continued levelly, clearing their used bottles with a wave and summoning two more with a click of his fingers. “Shall we open another bottle?”

“Guh,” Crowley said, pained. Was this all a lark? Aziraphale didn’t strike him as the sort to tease like this, but there was no mistaking that Crowley _was_ being teased. What he was yet to determine was the purpose of the game. Crowley was surprised to find that he rather enjoyed the teasing, where he’d always assumed he’d be annoyed by such nonsense. That was a fun thing to learn about himself. _So by all means, Angel, tease away..._

But if this was just a joke to the angel… Crowley frowned and drew back slightly, suddenly wary. He didn’t suspect Aziraphale to be outright cruel, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility for the angel to be tone-deaf and wrong-footed either.

“Another bottle…” Crowley echoed quietly. “Yes. That. Good.”

“Unless...” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked up, brow raised in question. “Unless you were in the mood for something else?”

Crowley bit his cheek and started sweating all over again. Dangerous waters. “Sssomething...” he croaked as he leaned closer.

“Coffee?” Aziraphale offered and Crowley blinked and quietly expired. “I have a delicious selection of fine liqueurs to add if you want something _hot and strong_.”

“Fires below,” Crowley muttered, becoming exasperated. “I don’t want any flaming coffee!”

“Then what _do_ you want?” Aziraphale asked. It sounded like a challenge, his plush lips curved into a smile.

“You just explained wot I bloody want in excruciatingly salacious detail!” Crowley snapped. “But if you think _I’m_ crossing the bloody line first now you—” Crowley halted his tirade mid rant when Aziraphale unceremoniously grabbed him by the lapels and yanked him in close.

“Crowley dear?” Aziraphale smiled fondly, placing a sweet little kiss on the tip of Crowley’s nose.

“Yes Angel?” Crowley squeaked. Aziraphale’s smile widened.

“Take off your trousers, darling.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2?


	4. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley finally kiss, and the demon has a lot of thoughts about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my bingo square "Kiss".
> 
> I heard you all wanted part two after Storytelling, and I wanted to show I was good for it. Here is the continuation from the last chapter :)

_ “Take off your trousers, darling.” _

Well now,  _ that  _ was certainly a very clear expression of intent. There was no reason for Crowley to continue doubting that this was, indeed, happening. Aziraphale, Principality of Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and Cinnamonroll-too-pure-for-this-world, wanted to  _ shag _ !

He was startled, all the same when the angel leaned in, pulling Crowley in closer by the lapels, to softly brush his lips against Crowley’s. The excited demon had seen and heard the intent. He had watched, wide-eyed and wondering as Aziraphale drew them together, and he  _ still  _ jumped as though zapped by static when they touched.

“All right?” Aziraphale whispered. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t release Crowley yet either as he waited for an answer.

“Mmhmm,” Crowley hummed, wishing his hands would stop trembling. This wasn’t how their first kiss was meant to go!  _ Crowley  _ was meant to be the one in control! He was supposed to whisk Aziraphale off his feet, confident and sexy, kiss the angel breathless and make him swoon! It was meant to be romantic, and hot, and overwhelming! _ He’d been planning this for 6,000 years! _

Now that it was happening (It was happening!) Crowley’s palms were sweating and his heart was racing. His brain malfunctioned, forgetting all his suave plans. When he’d pictured this moment, he’d only anticipated feeling heat, lust, (and that other L-word he wasn’t ever to speak of.) He didn’t imagine he could feel anything else, certainly not  _ several things at once _ ! 

He never thought he’d be nervous, yet here he was, bloody  _ terrified _ ! Some part of him was still suspicious that this might be a joke, or a challenge on Aziraphale’s part. It was difficult to believe, after all this desperate wanting, that the angel could  _ also  _ want this, want  _ him _ .That doubt had his wondering if this was all a game gone too far and Aziraphale was simply afraid of hurting his feelings? What if the angel regretted this? What if they went through with this and it ruined their friendship? He’d never survive another bandstand moment. Not now! It would be better to stick to what they knew worked, right? Why risk it all on an unknown?

He knew he should stop this before it went any further, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to actually stop kissing Aziraphale. Satan, he just  _ wanted  _ too much.

So instead he leaned into the next kiss, reclaiming part of his fantasy (and Aziraphale’s plush mouth.) A chaste press of lips that lingered while he drew a slow, pleased breath in through his nose, a content hum groaning out of his throat at the sudden sense of perfection. This much was  _ exactly  _ as he’d imagined. Aziraphale’s mouth was warm and soft, just as he expected. He leaned in again, gently holding the angel’s in his arms as he kissed him again. Crowley held his breath as he flicked his subtly forked tongue against the crease of Aziraphale’s plump lips and nearly startled again when the angel sighed and melted against him, opening enough for Crowley to press his advantage and taste the hollow of his mouth.

It was an immense relief that neither of them were instantly smote for this delicious transgression against the natural order. He’d been more anxious about that then he’d care to admit. It was an even  _ greater  _ relief that Aziraphale didn’t recoil at the intrusion, returning the deepening kiss instead hazel eyes fluttering closed.

They were doing it. They were kissing! And it was good!  _ Surprisingly  _ good.  _ Achingly  _ good. Just really so so  _ so  _ good. This was what Crowley had dreamed of when he actually dreamed of something pleasant. This was the feeling of everything finally falling into place. This was the feeling of _ coming home _ . 

Aziraphale shuddered pleasantly and wrapped his arms firmly around Crowley’s thin frame, one hand carding lightly through his hair and sending sparks of pleasure down his spine from his sensitive scalp. The angel stroked down his chest with his other hand, firm and gentle, and Crowley groaned again, dangerously hard in his jeans. How was Aziraphale so comfortable with all of this? How was he so infernally good at his? Blast it, how had Crowley not considered that the angel might be  _ experienced? _

Certainly the way he had nearly had Crowley coming in his pants with his filthy storytelling suggested his angel was hardly a blushing virgin. Which begged the question,  _ who had Aziraphale been fucking?! _ His cheeks warmed as he flushed, first with jealousy, and then with shame. What right did Crowley have to be jealous? He’d hardly been saving himself. He had taken humans home from time to time when the loneliness and pining had all become too much hold. 

It didn’t matter now. No previous lovers held a candle to Aziraphale. No other kiss was as searing as this kiss. And it was searing! Now that they had both shed their initial bout of trepidation it was downright  _ scorching! _

Crowley’s hands were roaming freely up and down the angel’s broad shoulders and back, digging into strong muscles as his tenuous control began to slip. Those muscles were firmer than Crowley had anticipated and broke out in a sweat at the sudden memory of some of Aziraphale’s feats of strength. The angel was  _ strong!  _ Strong enough to easy snatch Crowley up, if he had a mind to, and hold him down. Crowley could struggle wildly against his angel’s iron grip without a hope of escape. Aziraphale could manhandle him into bed, or over the desk and Crowley would have an excuse to surrender control. ( _ He’s stronger than me so why fight? _ ) He wouldn’t  _ have  _ to fight, because Aziraphale would never hurt him. 

Not unless Crowley wanted him to.

_ And Crowley wanted him to _ . His open-mouthed moans morphed into a desperate whine at the thought. The safety in being restrained. The thrill in abandoning control. The heartbreaking sweetness of laying his trust bare and knowing Aziraphale would take care of him.

Aziraphale answered his whine with a low groan, and slid his tongue wetly against Crowley’s, darting in sweeping strokes as he gripped the demon’s hair and moved his head how he wanted it. It was exactly what Crowley needed, hinting at his sudden fantasy so closely it made his knees weak. Crowley thrilled at that loss of control, letting the angel press him back against the sofa. His knees fell apart as Aziraphale positioned himself between them, dragging Crowley up to straddle his lap. 

For the first time, Crowley became very aware of Aziraphale’s erection as it slid against his own with nothing but four layers of fabric between them. The kiss was heavy with intent now, and Crowley was heavy with  _ need _ .

After 6,000 years, Crowley  _ needed  _ this. Maybe he could have gotten by on dinners and strolls in the park for another century or two had he not heard Aziraphale’s storytelling. Had he not felt the heat in this kiss. But he was ruined now, a wreck of desire and horrible dependency. He couldn’t go back to how things were before, not under this burden of knowledge.

And he knew they were balanced so precariously on the precipice of no return. This kiss, these wandering hands, the agonizing pleasure as Aziraphale grinded his hips into Crowley’s… this was their Rubicon. They crossed it at their peril. 

“Rubicon,” Crowley whimpered, turning his head away from the kiss. He didn’t dare let go of his grip on Aziraphale’s waistcoat, but the kiss was broken all the same.

Aziraphale looked at him, flushed and short of breath, his concerned smile stretched across pink kiss-swollen lips. “I see. Are  _ you  _ Caesar in this analogy, or am I?”

“I think we’re both Caesar here, Angel,” Crowley muttered. “And I need to know now if you want to stop because I’m…” he trailed off before he embarrassed himself further.

“Do  _ you _ want this Crowley?” Aziraphale asked carefully, lifting Crowley’s chin with a finger, forcing the demon to look at him. “You’re the one who stopped.”

“Nnn… ‘Course I bloody want this,” Crowley growled, feeling his cheeks flush hot. “But I  _ can’t  _ if there’s even a chance you’ll regret it. I don’t think I could go back to things as they were and pretend I don’t know what it's like to be with you like this.”

“Nor could I,” Aziraphale admitted softly. “And having finally kissed you, my dear, I can say with certainty that I could never regret this. In fact, after knowing you for millennia I can say with utmost veracity that I have  _ never  _ regretted a moment spent with you.”

Crowley chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.

“Although I do wish we had gotten around to this a bit sooner, I suppose,” Aziraphale added warmly. “The moment I saw you again after we survived our trials and secured our freedom. I should have told you right then that I lo—”

Crowley interrupted the confession with another kiss, unable to survive hearing those words just yet. No matter how much part of him needed...  _ that… _ he wouldn’t be able to fully accept it. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Aziraphale, and it definitely wasn’t that he didn’t return the sentiment a thousandfold with every sulphur-drenched figure of his being. But feeling and knowing something was one thing. Saying it out loud was another thing all together.

Crowley always preferred to show and not tell. He’d shown Aziraphale his devotion countless times over their long strange friendship. Rescues and reservations, books miracled to safety and chocolates miracled from Belgium. And this kiss, painfully soft and riddled with need. The tears sliding down his face, smoothed away by Aziraphale’s thumb as he angel lovingly held his cheeks. Crowley poured his whole raw bleeding heart into his kiss, a prayer passed from his lips to Aziraphale and back again until the love he could not speak was nearly glowing between them, hot and liquid and spilling out into molten desire.

“Let me have you, darling,” Aziraphale whispered desperately as Crowley loosened the bowtie and dragged his tongue up the angel’s throat.

“Anyway you want, Angel,” Crowley moaned. “Make me yours forever.”

“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale groaned, his voice sounding almost dangerous now as he grinned at Crowley. The soft hands on his cheeks slid up into his red hair, and then Crowley cried out in pained pleasure as Aziraphale tugged his head back firmly, biting lightly against the long line of Crowley’s throat. 

“Ffffuck, Angel!” Crowley cried, heart hammering in wild excitement.

“Do you like this, my dear?” Aziraphale asked sweetly, as if he didn’t know, as if it wasn’t humiliatingly obvious how badly Crowley loved it.

“I do,” Crowley moaned, too turned on to bother with pretense. “Want more.”

“My sweet beautiful thing,” Aziraphale whispered against his wet skin making Crowley tremble in delight. “I plan to give you everything.”

They kissed again then, and there was nothing sweet or soft about it. Crowley heard the angel click his fingers and felt the change in the air as they left the bookshop and reappeared in the flat above. Crowley whimpered and whined into the kiss, needy beyond all reason as Aziraphale effortlessly crowded him back into the small bedroom.

Aziraphale wasn’t going to abandon him! He  _ wanted  _ Crowley and Crowley wanted  _ him.  _ The fear was gone, pushed out by affection and hope and — yeah — an mind-numbing excess of pure fucking lust.

“Now, my sweet gorgeous creature,” Aziraphale told him between kisses, kicking the bedroom door closed behind them. “I do believe I told you to remove these trousers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem*
> 
> Part 3?


	5. Unwrapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley over-analyses the layers of clothing between him and Aziraphale... as they come off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the bingo square "undressing each other".
> 
> To be read as a continuation of the previous two chapters.

“Trousersss, right,” Crowley mumbled, slurring his words as his lips slid wetly across Aziraphale’s jaw. He pulled back to look at the angel, giving him yet another chance to back out. Aziraphale looked back at him, pink-lipped and sultry, and although there wasn’t any hint of anxiety or regret, the angel still paused. 

He held Crowley’s hands in his, brought the demon’s knuckles up to heavenly lips and kissed them like a gentleman (as though he hadn’t just snogged Crowley half into the grave!).

“I wish you to know that I cherish you,” Aziraphale told him quietly.

“That’s swell, Angel,” Crowley replied, distracted by the hand-holding. It was sweet and gentle, but there was something almost possessive about it too. Crowley had been about to peel out of his jeans when his hands had been grasped and he wasn’t sure he could pull them away now if he tried.

“I  _ need _ you to know it, my dear.” Aziraphale’s voice grew quieter yet more urgent. “I want to unwrap you like the precious gift you are, savour this for as long as I’m able.”

Warning bells sounded in Crowley’s brain and he frowned, finding that he could tug his hands away after all. He tried to disguise his anxiety behind an airy laugh. “Something likely to come between you and your savouring?”

“I confess we’re in real danger of me ruining this,” Aziraphale warned him, tracing Crowley’s lips with his thumb and pulling an aroused whimper from his throat. “You deserve all the gentleness I promised you for our first time and yet…” the angel trailed off making a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, his eyes hungry as he trailed his palm down the centre of Crowley’s chest,

“Shit,” Crowley groaned. “Anything you wanna do is fine by me, Angel.”

“Let me…” Aziraphale whispered before trailing his hand down Crowley’s arm.

Thus began the slowest, most erotically charged ritual of Crowley’s long life as they each undressed the other piece by piece. 

Neither spoke, communicating only with touches and meaningful looks. Crowley’s blood cooled, and he no longer felt a hair's breadth from coming. He found control in the slow methodical movements. More importantly though, he felt connected to the angel in a way he might have missed in his fervor. He certainly wouldn't have noticed how very much their wardrobe had to say now that neither of them were talking. 

First it was the  **watches:**

One round and golden, the other heavy and clunky and dark. The first was ornamental, a thing of practical beauty, while the other was monstrosity of necessity and pessimism. One setting stated the time as always “too late”. That had been true once, but now Crowley wasn’t sure he’d ever put the watch back on. He never liked it, and he had his smartphone as a timepiece now anyway.

The  **ties:**

A bowtie. Ridiculous, adorable, consistent. It annoyed Crowley constantly, but he’d miss it if it ever changed. 

He untied it from Aziraphale’s throat with trembling fingers and smoothed it out before folding it and setting aside. He turned back so Aziraphale could take off his. 

The silvery material wasn’t even really a tie. Not a tie, not a scarf, not  _ anything _ , really. Just something flashy, an empty aesthetic. Their ties were perfect for them, really.

Crowley flushed with shy embarrassment as Aziraphale lifted it over his head and brought it to his pert little nose to sniff Crowley’s cologne before setting the tie aside.

The  **Jackets:**

A gabardine overcoat, his ‘favourite’. The angel couldn’t stand for it to be stained. It was sturdy, trustworthy, understated and practical. It was a comfortable weight in Crowley’s arms as he drew it away from Aziraphale’s body. 

Warm eyes bore into him as Aziraphale returned the favour, sliding his hands over Crowley’s thin shoulders as he removed the black wool suit jacket. 

Black wool really was Crowley’s signature look, and this was just a cloak to hide in, updated and made trendy. The red collar was a badly needed pop of colour, or maybe it was a warning:  _ Stay away! Venomous! _

The  **waistcoats:**

Honestly, it had to be a miracle on one of their parts that Aziraphale didn’t lose a button to Crowley’s clumsy fingers. They were loose with age and rubbed smooth. The velvet was worn thin in places but soft as anything and Crowley resisted the urge to bury his face in it as he folded the garment. 

Crowley’s waistcoat was basic black cotton, common as dirt, and yet sharp enough to cut. 

**Belts:**

Crowley’s snakehead buckled belt was a guilty pleasure, (though Crowley seldom felt guilt). It was completely shameless. A way for him to flaunt who and what he was and thumb his nose at the unsuspecting humans. 

He loved the way Aziraphale had rolled his eyes when he’d first seen it, and Crowley had worn it everyday since. 

Aziraphale now stroked his fingers slowly over the snake’s head in a gesture so suggestive it made Crowley sweat. The belt was tugged free and dropped to the floor.

Crowley would have done the same to Aziraphale’s belt had he been wearing one, but of course the angel preferred braces. He probably had shirt stays and sock garters too, the coot. 

Crowley smirked at him while he unclipped the braces and gathered them up in his hand. He cocked his eyebrow and glanced at his carelessly discarded belt before tossing the braces over his shoulder.

**Shirts:**

Lightweight blue button up. Respectable, if a bit uptight (emphasis on buttoned up!). Even dressed down to his shirt and trousers Aziraphale looked all business. The blue cotton fell to the floor.

Conversely, there wasn’t anything fussy about Crowley’s grey t-shirt. It was classic, stylish, and so ubiquitously common it was hardly worth mentioning. If a shirt was a statement piece, this one said “No Comment”. It was easy to put on and easy to take off, as Aziraphale demonstrated by roughly pulling it over Crowley’s head and tossing it aside.

**Shoes:**

Brown oxfords. Well worn. Practical.

Black leather boots. Shiny as new. Also possibly the most practical thing about Crowley.

Both pairs were toed off and kicked aside.

**Trousers:**

Soft wool dress slacks. Heavy and soft and warm. If Aziraphale’s thighs were Crowley’s ideal pillow (and they were), then these were the perfect pillowcase.

Denim, black, tight enough to show the curve of his arse. It was the meatiest part of the demon and he believed in properly showing off his assets.

Crowley knelt and drew the trousers down creamy thighs, his mouth watering with the desire to remain kneeling and show the angel what he could do on his knees. But the ritual felt too important so he stood, holding the trousers and making a show of dropping them to the floor. 

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up at the challenge and he fairly ripped Crowley’s jeans open, tugging them down and sending the demon crashing back onto the bed behind him so the angel could yank the tight material off his long legs.

**Socks:**

Plaid wool (and  _ there _ were the bloody garters and shirt stays.) Crowley made quiet sounds of disapproval as he snapped away the garters and stays, and shook his head ruefully at the entirely expected appearance of tartan. 

Aziraphale grinned, his eyes alight with humour at Crowley’s exaggerated annoyance. Then the angel peeled Crowley’s socks (black bamboo. Cool and comfortable) off, digging his thumbs into his arches in a way that made the tension flee from his feet and take refuge in his cock. Crowley gasped and whined, twitching in his pants.

His pants were the only item of clothing left, aside from his glasses. He swallowed hard, eyeing the blue tartan boxers clinging to Aziraphale’s round hips, tenting over what looked like a monster of an erection. 

Crowley reached out with shaking hands before drawing back, afraid. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to draw them down and off without making a fool of himself. He was already trembling with need. He mumbled an apology and snapped his fingers, sending the boxers somewhere else, although he honestly had no idea where. 

He couldn’t bring himself to be remotely arsed about it when that massive cock sprang free. It was all Crowley could think about. How perfectly huge it was. It was an impressive bit of vanity for the angel to make his effort so… grand. 

It spoke volumes and  _ that _ was nearly as hot as the thoughts now running roughshod through Crowley’s mind. Visions of being speared on that hard velvet length. Of swallowing around it as it filled his throat.

  
  


Aziraphale joined Crowley on the bed, gently pressing him down and running his hands over the demon’s naked chest until he reached the waistband of Crowley’s black boxer briefs. 

The angel waited a beat until Crowley finally tore his eyes away from the angel’s cock (it was so close!) to meet his eyes. Aziraphale grinned wickedly then and twisted the cotton in his hands, easily tearing it away from Crowley’s body with a loud, dramatic ripping sound that was immensely satisfying for them both.

Crowley’s own erection, long and red (just like the rest of him) curved up against his stomach and Crowley groaned as Aziraphale straddled his legs and crawled over him, slow and sexy and nearly too much for the poor demon who was already on the verge of discorporating.

“Just those glasses now, love,” Aziraphale whispered. “May I?”

Crowley’s breath caught as he looked up at Aziraphale, suddenly terrified of what kind of emotion the angel might see in his eyes. 

“Yyyeh,” he gasped anyway. “Go ahead.”

Aziraphale reached for them and gently drew them off, folding them carefully and setting them on the bedside table. 

Crowley stared up at him, wide-eyed and helpless. Despite all the layers they had already shed,  _ this  _ felt like being disrobed. His armour removed, his soft underbelly exposed, showing in the yellow of his eyes. 

Aziraphale had seen his eyes plenty of times before, but Crowley usually only removed his glasses when he was alone, or heavily drunk.  _ This  _ felt more vulnerable than anything else.  _ This  _ is what made him naked.

“Gorgeous,” Aziraphale breathed, gazing longingly into Crowley’s eyes. Crowley couldn’t answer, his throat constricting under the onslaught of the angel’s lust. 

_ Holy Shit! _

Crowley could feel the lust bursting from the angel like a fire hose. There was absolutely no fear or regret in those wide hazel eyes. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered and it sounded like a prayer. “Oh, my dear, I’m terribly sorry.”

“Nnuh?” Crowley blinked slowly, confused and too turned on to converse about it.

“In my mind I always meant to make love to you sweetly and gently and show you all the gentleness you deserve, but  _ now _ when I see you like this… your eyes, your fangs, your wild flame-bright hair…”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away and Crowley’s heart broke.

_ It’s too demonic. He’s not seen it all at once up close in a long time. It’s not what he wants. I’m not what he wants. _

Crowley whimpered at the familiar and insidious thoughts.

_ I’m not good enough. I’m not good enough. I’m not good! I’m not good like him! _

And yet… there was still all that lust, wasn’t there?

“Angel?” he gasped. “Please…”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale groaned in resignation, turning back with an intense hunger. “Would you mind terribly I skipped the romance for now and simply fucked you into the mattress, my dear?”

The demon gaped up at the maddening blonde. “Nope!” Crowley squeaked, feeling completely desperate for exactly that. “Fuck away, Angel.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale sighed in relief. “I do appreciate your understanding and… I do hope you don’t bruise easily…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really stretching this out eh?
> 
> Who's ready for part 4?!


End file.
